Tepua felt no hurry to return to her own clan. She had come to relax, but also to ask advice. "I am just starting to learn what people expect of me now," Tepua said. "Sometimes I am surprised."
Heka smiled. She was a tall and well-made woman, with broad cheekbones and sparkling eyes. Her sizable figure and deep voice commanded respect, yet Tepua knew that she had a gentle side as well. "Perhaps I can help you, Tepua-ariki," Heka replied.
Tepua sighed as she recalled how a clan chief called White-stick had brought her a problem immediately after she had assumed her duties. "White-stick wanted to discuss his disagreement with Varoa Clan," she explained. "He took me to walk over his lands so I could see where the boundary was disputed. But then I started to ask questions and his mood changed. He turned from worrying about who owns which fara tree to complaining about fishing. He seemed to forget about the boundary."
"That is an old argument he troubled you with. His father could not settle it with Varoa. White-stick will leave it to his son."
"Then I think he does not truly want an end to it."
"Now you are showing the wisdom of a chief, Tepua," answered Heka. "If White-stick settles the argument, then what will he have to grumble about?"
Tepua smiled, then picked up the pierced coconut beside her and took a long drink. Gazing out over the placid water, she saw an oncoming canoe in the distance. The men were paddling hard. She wondered vaguely if this was a race, with one boat far ahead of the others.
As she watched with mild interest Tepua tried to imagine what was happening at home. The people of her clan had promised to build her a house near Kohekapu's; by now it should be done. When she went back, she would have to resume the role they had forced on her. But it still seemed impossible.
Tepua squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She missed the friends she had left behind in Tahiti. How long would it be until the priests and elders consented to let her go? What would it take to convince them that Umia should assume the chiefhood? She knew she could not ask Heka for advice on these questions. Heka had been in the forefront of those urging Tepua to take the office.
Now, in this quiet spot, Tepua heard voices sounding faintly across the water. She opened her eyes and glanced out at the oncoming canoe, a sleek and speedy vaka. The bodies of the paddlers glistened with sweat. If they were racing, she wondered, where were their opponents?
Suddenly Heka stood up. "I think there is trouble," she warned. A young man leaped from the boat, swam a few strokes, then stood up and splashed his way ashore.
"Maeva ariki!" the young man managed, though he was still short of breath from his paddling. Tepua recognized him, Sea-snake, one of Paruru's ablest warriors.
"What is wrong?" she asked uneasily. Sea-snake's words came out in a rush. Tepua held up her hand to stop him, then turned to Heka.
"You go with them," advised Piho's chief. "I will send your pahi to follow." Waving the servants aside, Tepua waded into the shallow water.
The paddlers brought the narrow canoe close to shore and held it steady while she climbed in. Then they began stroking, resuming their rapid pace. Sea-snake sat just behind her, and she listened to him gasping out the details between breaths. His words brought only confusing images.
The vaka moved swiftly. Soon she saw on the horizon a tall and unfamiliar mast rising out of the lagoon. Up to that moment she had not paid much heed to Sea-snake's babbling about a demon vessel.
Islanders sometimes came from afar, she knew, sailing strange craft. But the sight of this foreign mast gave her a chill. As the paddlers continued, she peered ahead, waiting with curiosity as well as fear to glimpse the hull that Sea-snake had described.
She saw first only a dense cluster of local canoes and could not tell what lay at the center of attention. Then, as she came closer, someone had the sense to blow a conch trumpet and announce her presence. The canoes began to clear from her path.
Tepua drew in her breath when, at last, she had a clear view of the wide hull and the oddly clothed people within. Sea-snake had said that the craft possessed no outrigger float, but only now did she believe him. The hull rocked even in quiet water. She could not imagine what would keep it from tipping in a heavy sea.
Suddenly she recalled a troubling tale from Tahiti, of a prophecy that old people remembered. An oracle had said that one day a huge vessel with no outrigger would appear, and that its arrival would bring sweeping changes. She had heard that priests made offerings to the gods in hope of forestalling that day.
She narrowed her eyes. Here was a vaka that floated with no outrigger, but it was not huge. And the crew seemed in no condition to harm anyone. With rising interest, she ordered her canoe closer and studied the strange figures aboard the vessel.
Sea-snake had talked of oddly colored sea demons, but the face peering at her over the washboard resembled that of a frightened man. She saw black hair and eyes like those of her own people, a protruding nose, and a mouth with thin lips. The dark-haired stranger crouched, cradling something in his lap, but she could not see what he held.
Stretched out in the boat's bilges lay a second sailor. The shade of this one's hair made her raise her eyebrows, for it was red, a color rarely seen among islanders. He appeared younger than the others, almost a youth. His face showed a pained expression as he lay amid a tangle of ropes and sails. Only a slight twitch of his mouth indicated that he remained alive.
When her gaze moved to the third outsider, she gasped in astonishment, wondering if Sea-snake had been right after all. This one truly appeared to be more demon than man. His hair was impossibly bright—the tawny gold of sand beneath the afternoon sun.
He seemed in better condition than the others, though his face was bristly, his skin a peeling and mottled reddish brown. He sat straddling a thwart near the center of the boat, scooping soft meat from a coconut and stuffing it into his mouth. As he watched her draw closer, he stopped eating, put aside the coconut, and stared back at her.
Tepua blinked twice, unwilling to believe what she saw. Were his eyes really that intense blue-green or was it a reflection off the lagoon? Even at a distance she was startled by the aquamarine lightness against the bronze of his face.
She felt the drumming of her pulse as she remembered legends of evil spirits from the sea. "Aue!" she cried, looking away from him to the comforting black and brown eyes and hair of the islanders.
But spirits did not need boats to carry them, nor did they suffer from hunger or thirst. Their skin did not blister and peel beneath the sun. This was a man, she concluded, not an apparition. If she drew closer, she was certain that she could touch the rough bristles on his face.
Her fingers prickled as she imagined how it might feel. A shiver ran up her back, and she ordered her paddlers to hold their place. Even if these outsiders were men, invisible dangers might be lurking aboard their vessel. Until she summoned the high priest, she dared not touch anything.
The blue-eyed sailor stared at her as if expecting her to speak. Still uncomfortable with her new role, she felt her words catch in her throat. "I am...the high chief," she managed. "Tell me where you came from."
He answered only gibberish. She questioned him again, but could not grasp his speech. Yet she knew, from watching other visitors, how people could talk using signs. Hoping to learn his place of origin, she gestured with an open hand toward one horizon, then back to the foreign boat. When he did not respond she gestured in another direction. At last he seemed to understand, for he pointed with his forefinger toward where the sun rose.
As he did so the coverings on his arms fell back, revealing tanned forearms and wrists that lacked any tattoos. Tepua frowned, trying to remember what she had heard of eastern islands. These men certainly had not come from the atolls that her people knew. Perhaps they had crossed the vast seas that lay farther east.
"How many days' sail?'' she asked. She moved her hand across the sky following the sun's path, then mimicked sleep by laying her head down on her hands.
; The sailor answered by holding up his fingers. He kept holding them up and taking them down until Tepua laughed. No one could sail for that many days!
The bright-haired stranger spoke again as if trying to explain. Despite his unfamiliar features, Tepua saw an earnestness in his expression and sensed that he was not joking. He pointed at his vaka and held his hands up with a short gap between the palms. Again he pointed to the vaka, this time spreading his hands far apart.
For a moment Tepua was confused. Among her people, one showed the length of something like a fish by holding the edge of one hand across the other arm.
"A larger boat?" Tepua asked. The man kept making signs and gradually she understood. He had sailed for many days in a far larger vessel. In this vaka, he had spent only fifteen nights. She could not understand what had happened to the other vessel, only that it was gone.
How he had run out of food and water remained unclear. Perhaps some of his supplies had washed overboard, or he had expected to find land long ago. The frustrating task of communicating had worn down her patience. In silence, she studied the sailor, hoping for answers to questions she could not ask.
Though clothing covered him, she could see that his limbs were nicely shaped, his shoulders broad, his arms well muscled. Despite his exhaustion and privation, he carried himself proudly, showing no fear of the warriors in the boats that faced him. His features were far more angular and hard-edged than those of her people. The contour of his nose was straight rather than curved softly inward.
The planes of his cheeks seemed to echo the determined line of his nose, for they slanted back and to the side. In this way he seemed very different from her people. His entire face had more forward thrust, as if it contained a restless spirit fighting to get free.
And those mesmerizing eyes! It was as if a god had taken a handful of water from the lagoon depths, preserved the magic of its color, and poured it into them.
At last, with some reluctance, she ordered her paddlers to take her ashore. Canoes filled with warriors stayed behind to keep any curious fishermen from getting too close. She glanced back, watching the strange sight of the foreign craft ringed loosely by outrigger canoes.
On the beach she found the high priest waiting. Faka-ora, his eyes sunk deeply in the wrinkles above his cheeks, shuffled forward to speak with her. The vast crowd of onlookers stood back at a respectful distance. Even the children kept silent.
"Do you know the famous prophecy?" Tepua asked the priest in a low voice.
"I do," he answered.
"But this is not Tahiti,'' she said."Nor is it the first time a strange craft has been seen among the atolls."
"So I have heard."
"Then tell me, Faka-ora. What do you make of this strange arrival? Are the men dangerous?" In her mind she thought she knew how he would answer, yet she held a faint hope.
Faka-ora pursed his lips. "We have listened to the ringoringo crying. Now we are visited by people unlike any we have seen before."
She replied in a tone of disappointment. "Then this is what the voice was warning us about?"
"I am sure of it."
Tepua frowned, recalling the sorry condition of the men. They had come from afar, enduring hardships she knew well.
Not long past, after days of suffering at sea, Tepua herself had been washed up on a foreign shore. She understood what these men had undergone. "In Tahiti, I learned something else," she told the priest. "The people there help a stranger who is in need. A simple fisherman took care of me once, though he knew nothing of my family and had no hope of reward."
"Then give these strangers food and drink," said the priest. "Enough to stock their canoe so they can sail on. I see little harm in that. But I advise you strongly—do not allow those men ashore."
"If we send them off, they will not get far," Tepua said. "Their vessel will tip over in the first squall. And if it does not, I am afraid that some hungry Pu-tahi will catch up with them."
"Then the man-eaters deserve whatever ills the strangers afflict on them," Faka-ora said scornfully. He glanced aside as footsteps approached. Tepua saw that Paruru had just arrived.
The kaito-nui had discovered the foreign vessel and brought it in. She asked him if he had a plan for dealing with the outsiders.
"I see no weapons in their boat," Paruru answered, "But they carry other things that I would like to examine."
"Then you do not think the foreigners dangerous?"
Paruru laughed."Three weak men against all of us? How can they be?" Yet Tepua noticed a worried look in his eyes.
"Once when I was traveling to the north," Paruru continued, "I met a chief whose wife wore a necklace like none I had ever seen. It was made of shiny blue stones, each round as a pearl but much bigger. The necklace came from strangers like these—men who clothed their legs. That is the kind of gift I would like for you, Tepua-ariki."
Tepua stiffened, wondering at his motives. "The outsiders have not offered to trade us anything," she answered cautiously. "Even if they did, would Faka-ora allow us to touch the foreign things?"
"The chief's wife I saw was in good health," Paruru answered. "After many years of wearing her necklace."
"But our visitors have the evil of sickness about them," the priest objected. "Perhaps the traders who brought that necklace were not so out of favor with their gods as are these men."
"I have also seen an adze made of a stone we do not know," Paruru continued in a tone of longing. "It was far better than any high-island adze. The edge was hard and very sharp. You should have seen it cut!"
Tepua recalled the discussion she had had with Heka, about men who argue endlessly and do not settle. "I have heard enough," she said suddenly. "I, too, am curious about what these strangers carry, and what they can tell us of the world that lies toward the dawn."
When she saw Paruru and Faka-ora staring at her, her mouth grew dry. So far she had been chief in name only. She had given orders, but only to servants. People had come to her with problems, but had not really wanted to hear her advice.
Now, for the first time, she was about to assert her authority...and see if these important men were willing to listen.
She began cautiously. "I do not wish to turn these foreigners away. I will help them, but without allowing them ashore.'' The priest's bushy eyebrows rose, but he said nothing to contradict her.
"Faka-ora," she continued. "I ask you to find a tahunga who will try to heal the sailors. If they recover, then we will know that their gods have been appeased, and that we need not send the men away."
The high priest did not reply at once, and she tried to find an answer in his glittering eyes. In the silence she heard her pulse drumming in her ears, beating faster.... "It will be done, ariki," he said. "I will bring a tahunga who is so powerful that he is safe from foreign evils. He alone can risk boarding the vessel."
She glanced at Paruru. Did he, too, accept her decision? He was the one most eager to examine the foreign craft, but perhaps he was not willing to wait. He merely gazed at her, in mute agreement with her plan.
Tepua lifted her chin. "Then I will go and tell the strangers my decision."
Paruru ran on ahead. Passing one of his guards on the beach, he took the man's spear, lifting it high as he went. He made an impressive figure as he strode through the shallows, sunlight brightening his tattooed back and thighs. Yet something about the warrior troubled her. He seemed to be trying to please her—trying too hard.
She watched him a moment longer as he joined a canoe filled with his men. Tepua climbed into a small vaka and led the way toward the visitors' craft, hearing the splashing of many paddles behind her. Glancing to the side, she saw Paruru gaining on her, while several double-hulled war canoes followed closely. The men standing on deck held their long spears at ready, the sharp bone tips pointing out over the water.
On their vessel, the outsiders stirred, looking up with alarm."Do not frighten the foreigners,'' Tepua called back. "Go slower," she ordered her paddlers
. "Everyone, slower!"
Ahead, she saw the black-haired man staring at the oncoming canoes. A sudden look of fear crossed his face. "We come to offer you help," she shouted to him across the water. Now she wished she had brought a young palm branch as a sign of her peaceful intentions.
The dark-haired stranger, crouching near the bow, glanced down at the thing he was holding. His hands moved, but his actions remained hidden. Then he lifted something resembling a straight shaft the length of a man's arm; he pointed it toward the sky above Tepua's head. From the stern, his light-haired companion shouted what seemed a warning, but the other man took no notice. The light-haired man shouted again, lunged forward, clambering over the thwarts....
A sudden dread gripped Tepua. "Is that a weapon?" she cried. Then a noise shook her, a sound louder than thunder. Gray smoke billowed. Men screamed, some diving into the water. On shore, the crowds fled the beach.
Tepua felt fear pounding inside her chest, but she forced herself not to move. She smelled the harsh smoke, unlike any she knew. Then she saw Paruru, whose paddlers had never halted. His arm was raised, his spear tip aimed at the man who held the terrifying thing. She called out, trying to stop him, but the warrior did not seem to hear.
The dark-haired sailor tried to dodge. He could not move quickly enough. Paruru's long spear thrust forward....
The foreigner gave a cry as the slender bone point plunged into his gut. Then his hands flew up and the weapon tumbled from his grip, dropping with a splash into the lagoon. The bright-haired sailor tried to help his companion, but Tepua saw there was no hope for the man.
"Everyone move back!" she shouted. At last, Paruru's men complied. Warily, she ordered her canoe to approach the foreign craft alone. Her paddlers were trembling and she understood their fear. What if the strangers possessed another of those weapons?
"We do not wish to harm you," she called. "We want only peace."
The bright-haired man paid no heed to her. He bent over his companion, his face contorted by grief. Tepua felt a flood of sympathy.
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